Page 22

Twenty-One

“Could have been worse.” Sass stood with Lira in front of the cold pan and even colder oven.

Lira slid an icy glance at her. “What’s worse than the oven not heating up?”

Crumpet let loose with a series of chitters and shook a tiny fist at the hulking iron stove.

“He knows.” Sass jerked her head toward the flutter-stoat. “At least the vengeful contraption didn’t burn the place down.”

Lira groaned. “No chance of that—or of us serving any more food.”

The dwarf flapped a hand as if to dismiss this concern. “I’d say this is one advantage of not having a lot of business yet. We don’t have many folks to disappoint.”

“Now there’s a silver lining.” Lira untied the flour-smudged apron covering her clothes and tossed it onto the counter. Between Iris's visit and the temperamental oven, she was ready for the day to be done.

“I’ll pop in to the tinker’s tomorrow, although the shop seems perpetually closed,” Sass said. “I doubt we can count on Durn to replace this monster if he hasn’t yet.”

Lira suspected Sass was right. The tavernkeeper had generally avoided the kitchen. He went from his room above stairs to his position behind the bar where he grumbled with Silas, and back again to his room, with not much more than a nod in their direction each evening. She was sure Sass had to be twice as boisterous to make up for the owner’s dour presence.

“You know what I was thinking?” Sass asked then continued without waiting for an answer. “Durn needs a reason to get out of this place.”

“Like a hobby?” Lira could hardly imagine the man doing anything but hunching over the bar.

Sass’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “Like a love interest.”

“You want to be a matchmaker for Durn?” Lira shook her head. “Talk about a challenge.”

The dwarf did not seem dissuaded by Lira’s less than enthusiastic response. “It’s clear he misses his wife. It’s been two years. Maybe what he needs is a new love.”

Lira didn’t say that she wasn’t sure if Durn’s relationship with his wife could be classified as a great love, but maybe Sass had a point. The man did need something, and the refurbishment of the tavern wasn’t doing it for him.

“You have anyone in mind?”

“Wayside isn’t bubbling over with great options, but I noticed that the chandler is single.”

Lira had vague memories of the curvy gnome who had a shock of lavender hair and a bright smile. “Is she looking for someone moody and poor?”

Sass barked a laugh. “Durn is like his tavern. He just needs a bit of a spruce up.”

Spruce up? Lira mouthed to herself. More like a total overhaul, but Sass did seem to relish a challenge.

“Ahem.”

Sass swung her head to Lira, then they both looked toward the swinging doors. The polite throat-clearing came from outside the kitchen.

Sass pushed through to the great room and Lira followed her, too curious to stay behind and with no good reason to continue lamenting over raw pastries and the loveless tavernkeeper. Her head instantly dropped to the smartly dressed gnome who stood outside the kitchen, his wrinkled hands rubbing together.

“Yes, yes,” he said, peering up at Sass and then up even higher to smile brightly at Lira. “I wanted to bestow my compliments to the chef.”

Lira flushed, although she felt it was a stretch to call her a chef. “I’m glad you enjoyed your supper.”

“I hope you had enough,” Sass muttered, mostly for Lira’s benefit.

“Oh, yes. Plenty, plenty.” The fellow had an endearing habit of repeating himself.

“Thank you for coming,” Lira said, returning his smile although she got the impression that he hadn’t come to stand outside the kitchen just to thank her for the food. Then she remembered the chairs. “And thank you for the chairs. They go perfectly by the hearth.”

He bobbed his small head. “They do, they do.” He extended a hand. “Tinpin Thistledown at your service.”

Lira took his hand and shook it.

“As you no doubt know, I already met your charming business associate the other day.” He inclined his head to Sass, who preened at either being called charming or a business associate or perhaps both. “She has excellent taste in textiles. Excellent taste. ”

Lira glanced toward the curtains, allowing that they did work well in the space. Then she looked down at the gnome again, registering his own sumptuous clothing. “How did you end up in Wayside, Mr. Thistledown? I would expect to see someone of your caliber in Hearthorn or even Frostmoor.”

His friendly expression registered brief dismay. “No, no. Call me Tin. Everyone does. Everyone.”

“Okay, Tin,” Lira said, even though the name seemed much too casual for someone so precise about his appearance. She waited for him to tell her how he’d landed in a tiny village and not a bustling town where there was plenty of call for dress breeches and elaborate gowns.

The gnome let his gaze dart around the tavern and back to Lira. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m not from these parts. I hail from Port Frey in the South of the Ageless Lands.”

Lira nodded, thinking of her own time in the seaside town. “Marshland and plenty of coastline. Not much like here.”

Tin rocked back on his heels, and Lira noticed that his brown shoes were polished to a high shine. “Not much, not much. Port Frey is a good place to be from, but it didn’t need me like Wayside does.”

Lira cocked her head at him, not sure exactly what he meant.

“Don’t get me wrong.” The gnome waved small hands that Lira knew without asking were deft with a needle and thread. “Wayside is a lovely village, but it’s lost a lot of its heart. I could sense it the moment I arrived. The very moment.”

Lira thought about her gran and Durn’s wife, the shuttered storefronts off the main street, the perpetually closed tinker, the vacancy sign swinging in front of the inn. She could see his point, although she never would have thought a place could have a heart.

The gnome fingered the wide lapel of his vest. “I always say that there’s nothing quite as good for lifting the spirits as a new frock. Nothing as good. So that’s why I’m here. That’s why you’re back too, isn’t it?”

Lira blinked at him. “For a new frock?”

His laughter peeled high and merry. “No, no. Aren’t you droll? No, you don’t strike me as the frock type.”

Should Lira be offended by that? Or by being called droll? Or by Sass’s shoulders shaking as she tried not to laugh?

“I heard you’re a local who’s come back,” Tin said. “You must sense the same thing about the village. Why else would you put so much into saving this tavern? Why else?”

Lira nodded, the smile frozen on her face. That wasn’t why she’d come back at all, but he was right that she’d felt compelled to help The Tusk & Tail.

“That she does.” Sass hooked her arm through Lira’s, amusement dripping from her voice. “We all want to save the tavern.”

Lira gave the dwarf a vigorous pat on the arm. “Yes, we do, and thank you again for helping us, Mr.—I mean, Tin.”

The gnome grinned as he nodded, pleased that she’d called him by his name. “My pleasure, my pleasure.” He turned his attention to Sass. “Now should I take at look at that room you told me about? I suspect the bedding hasn’t been updated since the first dragon age.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Sass said.

“Bedding?” Lira frowned. Did Sass mean the room they were sharing? “I think we need a new oven before we can think about redecorating our sleeping chamber.”

“Of course, of course.” The haberdasher bobbed his head, some of the excitement fading from his eyes. “Function before all else. That’s what I always say.” Then he gave Sass a knowing look. “Later, perhaps, my dear.”

Lira wasn’t sure if she would have called his silky ascot functional, nor the glittering pin anchoring it in place, but she couldn’t help liking the fellow. Besides, he was one of their few regulars, according to Sass.

Tinpin Thistledown produced a pristine black cap and tipped it to them before he settled it onto his head, the point draping to one side. “I bid you both a good night, a very good night.”

As he strode jauntily away, Lira noticed Val and Korl slipping out, Val trailing at least a foot of newly knit orange scarf behind her and the orc’s gaze landing on Lira for a beat before he ducked under the doorframe.

Then Silas shuffled by, using two fingers to point to his own eyes and then at her. “I’ve got my eyes on you two.”

All questions about Sass’s plans for their bedroom flew from her mind, but the dwarf just swung a dishtowel in his direction and told him to go on home. Of course, Sass didn’t have to worry about anyone keeping their eye on her.

Lira drew in a breath of peat smoke, sweeping her gaze around the now-empty tavern with the crackling fire and a few errant pewter plates and tankards scattered across the long, thick-legged tables. “So those are our regulars?”

Sass twirled the tail of her braid around one finger and her grin flashed momentarily wicked. “For now.”

That gave Lira pause.